


In which Hermann maps the stars on Newton's skin

by slightly_oblivvyous



Series: Newmann in 1000 Words or Less [7]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Fluff, Freckles, M/M, tooth-rotting fluff about freckles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2648702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_oblivvyous/pseuds/slightly_oblivvyous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann gets a little sentimental over Newt's freckles. Warning for excess sweetness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Hermann maps the stars on Newton's skin

**Author's Note:**

> (A [friend](http://contrabasse.tumblr.com/) reminded me that Charlie Day is basically a giant freckle, so naturally Newt must also be covered in freckles, and once I had that image I couldn't not run with it.)

The first thing Newt noticed when he woke in the morning was the sensation of something skittering over his back. This would have been alarming were it not accompanied by the occasional gust of warm breath and gentle noise from Hermann.

"What’re y’doin’, H’rmann?" Newt croaked. His voice was never the best in the morning, but it was particularly bad today thanks to the previous night’s activities.

"You have freckles here." Hermann poked the spot he was touching and dragged his finger to another point. "And here."

"Mmmyep, ‘ve got freckles pretty much everywhere."

Hermann’s voice was soft, almost admiring. “I hadn’t noticed them.”

"Yeah, well," Newt yawned, settling back into the pillow, "don’t get used to ‘em. I’m getting Mutavore back there as soon as I can take a day off."

Hermann made no reply beyond a thoughtful hum. He continued tracing the patterns on Newton’s back, mapping them out like constellations and pressing lightly at the center of each star cluster. Before long, Newton had drifted back to sleep.

That wasn’t the only time he woke up to feel Hermann drawing shapes into his skin. He never asked for an explanation, and Hermann didn’t offer one. It didn’t matter.

When Newt came home with his new tattoo, freshly inked and stinging, Hermann rubbed soothing lotion into the raw skin and redrew the now-familiar patterns, lightly tracing constellations hidden in auroras of colour.


End file.
